


Ten A Knut

by Brave_Sand_Towers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Harry is a Little Shit, Hogwarts Third Year, I also have no idea where I'm going with this story, I have no idea what kind of AU this is, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brave_Sand_Towers/pseuds/Brave_Sand_Towers
Summary: In his defense, he didn’t mean to walk into an occult library. It was all purely unintentional for the most part.Trying to adapt to his new environment, Harry took long, perhaps ill-advised walks around the neighborhood, and spent most days out of the house as a result. The problem was, he didn’t speak a lick of French unlike Dudley who took lessons prior to the move, so conversing and making friends with the locals proved to be a rather difficult task. Thus, he usually kept interaction to a minimum, preferring to drift aimlessly in the afternoons.That’s when he met him.Or:Harry Potter has a crush on his weird wizard friend Draco and ultimately finds out he's a wizard himself
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is
> 
> Well
> 
> Not my first fanfiction
> 
> But the first fanfiction I've ever posted online (forgetting that brief stint in fanfiction.net that I'd much rather never remember) so please be patient with me.
> 
> Because my updates will be the most erratic thing you will ever experience
> 
> For real
> 
> Because art school is a bitch
> 
> So yea look forward to those updates when I've managed to gather enough brain juice to write again. It will be great.
> 
> So to summarize, this is an AU wherein the Dursleys + Harry moved to France when Harry was ten so he never got his Hogwarts letter and because of some conflict with jurisdiction, he didn't go to beauxbatons either. Enter Draco who is the biggest disaster to exist (next to Harry at least).
> 
> This is totally unbetad because the only people who have read this are in a group chat appropriately named "Sad Bitches Club" and as you can tell they're pretty unreliable beta-wise. Tell me if you see any errors!
> 
> Enjoy!

“What do you mean they’re _gone_?” Minerva hissed, feeling her blood boil and a headache begin to form between her eyes.

Albus looked rightfully chastised, showing obvious worry at the proceedings. Minerva would gloat if she wasn’t so aggrieved herself.

“They fled the country, Minerva. They went to France. You know we have no jurisdiction there, no matter the situation.”

“I don’t care!” She snaps, “This is _Harry Potter_ we’re talking about, Albus! Surely there’s some way-”

“Beauxbatons is not making any moves against the Dursleys. Madame Maxime will owl a letter to them when the time comes just in case, but otherwise it is out of her hands if they reject,” Albus sighs, “and out of ours.”

Minerva squeezes her eyes shut, falling into the chair in front of Albus’s desk.

“I told you sending him to the muggles was a foolish idea,” she says, “I should have taken him in myself.”

Albus didn’t reply, seemingly intent on letting the matter rest. Minerva felt ill.  
•••  
Harry’s heart thumped violently against his chest. He tried to keep still as much as he could, lest there be a repeat of last year when he got held back after school for disciplining due to his “wavering attention”.

(He didn’t know why it mattered. Exams were done and it was the last day. Any topics they brushed upon would be considered null and unimportant. Especially since that was his last year of secondary school.)

Regardless, he sat rigidly in his chair as the teacher drawled on and on about something he could hardly pay any attention to with his dawdling mind. He didn’t want to miss a second with Draco.

No one knew about Draco. Not the Dursleys nor any of his classmates.

He didn’t think anyone would take him seeing the boy-crush that he met in an occult book shop on an annual basis very well, so he opted to keep his mouth shut about it.

He first encountered Draco three years prior when Harry moved to France. It was a difficult time for him, trying to settle and adapt to a new environment. The Dursleys let him be funnily enough, trying to find their own footing, so Harry was free to do whatever he wanted. He took long, perhaps ill-advised walks around the neighborhood, and spent most days out of the house as a result. The problem was, he didn’t speak a lick of French unlike Dudley who took lessons prior to the move, so conversing and making friends with the locals proved to be a rather difficult task. Thus, he usually kept interaction to a minimum, preferring to drift aimlessly in the afternoons.

That’s when he met him.  
•••  
In his defense, he didn’t _mean_ to walk into an occult library. It was all purely unintentional for the most part.

He was looking for the regular library to find a book on the French language. At some point, Harry had become hopelessly lost and found himself in a bustling street after walking through an alleyway. The thing was, however, the people milling about were wearing the oddest sort of clothes. Billowing robes and pointed hats. Harry thought a fair must be going on, for people to wear such things.

Looking around he noticed a bookshop just across the street. Praising his luck, Harry darts around the rush of bodies to the shop with the sign Madame Langevin’s.

It was rather empty. Well. Not empty. Devoid of life more like. Rather than empty, it was instead brimming with books. There was hardly any room to step around in and Harry, incredibly conscious of his every movement, tried not to topple into anything as made his way in. Inside, it was well lit, but with candlelight and not bulbs. He would think it was a fire hazard, but he figured they were prepared for that sort of thing. It fit in with whatever aesthetic they were going for anyway. It was bigger on the inside too, but it was so magnificently cluttered that had to contort his body into difficult positions to avoid bumping into tables, shelves, and the random piles of books that almost seemed to increase whenever he looked away. The counter wasn’t any better. He couldn’t see past the mountain of them to check if there was anyone behind there at all, but from the rhythmic thumping and clicking of a stamp, there surely was.

The books were rather eccentric, too. Most were hard bound, covered with a sort of thick, expensive-looking leather, and had titles such as _Guide to The Strange World of Divination_ and _The Book of Famous Manticores_. The ones in English at least. Harry couldn’t make sense of its contents either, after a brief skim through a book balanced precariously on a stack revealed drawings of weird creatures and unknown plant life.

A very mysterious place indeed. One he was beginning to suspect was some sort of occult library the more he inspected the pages.

And while that was an unsettling notion, it was just as fascinating as well.

He spent an hour there, perhaps, before a boy appeared between the shelves. He was pale, with platinum blond hair neatly parted and haughty, angular features. He couldn’t have been much older than Harry, but he had an air of elegance around him that was hard to have for boys their ages. More than that, however, Harry noticed he was wearing billowing navy blue robes and a small, brown satchel with a silver snake lock at his side.

The boy spared him a glace, tipped his head with a small “ _bonjour_ ,” in greeting before perusing the books on the shelves.

Harry blinked at him for a moment more before returning to the curious book called _Most Macabre Monstrosities._

_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad-_

“Are you British?”

Harry jolted in surprise. The boy was now watching him expectantly.

“Pardon?”

“You’re from England,” the boy states instead.

“Yes? How’d you know?”

The boy faces the shelves again, as if he was completely disinterested, “You were muttering.”

Harry flushes in embarrassment.

“Sorry. Was I loud?”

He only rolls his eyes, “If you were loud, the librarian would have eaten you already.”

Harry laughs but quiets upon noticing the serious look on the boy’s face.

“So do you go to Hogwarts? Or Beauxbatons?” The boy asks, idly flipping through a book.

“Ahhh... I only just moved here so I haven’t begun yet.”

The boy glances at him again. Harry fixed his glasses, suddenly sheepish.

“I’ll be in Hogwarts. Starting in September. Father was against it at first. Wanted me to go to Durmstrang in Russia. But mother didn’t want me too far away.”

“Hmm?” Harry asks, unsure how to respond. This boy must be rich, he thinks. Those were likely very prestigious schools if this boy was any indication and he didn’t want to seem pitiful in front of someone new.

“I’ll be in Slytherin, of course. It’s the best house,” he goes on, “All the Malfoys are.”

“Oh but I don’t think Beauxbatons has that system. I can’t imagine having to share a house with any Gryffindors,” he snorts, “or _Hufflepuffs_. Ridiculous.”

He tilts his head.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?”

The boy raises an eyebrow.

“Are you a pureblood? I pegged you as one, seeing as you’re in this sort of place.”

“I’m not even sure what this place is,” Harry says, trying choose his words carefully, “Is there a fair going on? Why is everyone dressed this way?”

This made the boy stop in his tracks and his confused face goes so pale it was alarming.

“Uh. Are you okay?”

“Are you a _muggle_?” he whispers dramatically.

“Hm? A what?”

The boy takes a few long strides towards him. This close, he saw how the boy was almost an entire head taller than him (although it wasn’t a great feat to be taller than Harry. Everyone was taller than Harry).

“You need to leave. **Right**. **Now** ,” he hisses.

“Pardon me?”

The boy grabs his arm and forcefully tries and steer him out.

“ _Hey_ -!”

“Stop that!”

When Harry jerks his arm back, he accidentally elbows a tall stack of books. He thinks he sees them fall in slow motion and he reaches out to catch them when they just freeze midair.

Harry gasps and turns to the boy to see if he knew what was happening.

The boy had his arm raised, a stick pointed directly at the books.

At his gaping expression, the boy just gestures with a finger to his lips, flicking wide eyes behind him. A chill runs down his spine. He slowly turns his head and sees something a bright shining red slither across the counter. Almost like a tentacle.

In the shock of the moment, it took a moment to notice that the rhythmic click-thump he’d been hearing for over an hour had silenced and had been replaced with a rattling sort of sound.

A moment of unbearable tension later, the tentacle retreats back into the overwhelming pile of books and the sound returns to continue its pattern.

He snaps his eyes back to the boy who’s shoulders sag with a punch of breath. Waving the stick in his hand with little murmurs the books that floated right next to Harry reverts back into place.

The boy drops his hand and seems to hesitate before gesturing for him to follow.

Harry does.

“What was that?”

The boy doesn’t answer and continues marching down the street and back into the alley. Suddenly, the noise of the street goes muffled and slow. Almost as if he was underwater. In its absence, an annoying ringing sound and a headache begins to appear.

“Never come back.” The boy says with finality.

Harry frowns, “That’s rather rude. Mind telling me how you did that? And what that creature was?”

The boy scowls, “I don’t owe you an explanation, muggle!”

He flinches at the outburst, but before the boy could look apologetic (not that Harry had any notion that he would), he feels his blood begin to boil, “Well you were perfectly fine talking to me a while ago!”

“That’s when I didn’t know you were a muggle!”

“I don’t even know what that is!”

“You wouldn’t!”

Harry yells in frustration and storms away. Once he turns the corner, he rubs his eyes, irritated at the wetness that followed.  
•••  
Harry returns a day later because... well. He never could learn to let things lie. In this case he was much too curious about the display he saw to even consider not coming back. Perhaps the boy was there. If so, Harry had a mission to fulfill. One that involves finding answers.

“Are you bloody kidding me?”

“ _Language_.”

The boy scowls at him, taking those long purposeful strides and placing his hands on his hips, towering over him to look intimidating.

It reminded Harry of a peacock.

He walks past the boy –mostly to hide his grin— and continues on to the shelves he was exploring previously.

“You can’t be here,” he says, following him over.

“I don’t see a sign saying only pricks can enter so, really, I can.”

“Why you little-”

“What’s your name?”

Silence.

He looks up to see the most baffled look he’s ever seen on someone. And he’s watched Dudley do his maths assignments.

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly, “And you are?”

The boy, unsure, and definitely caught off guard, doesn’t respond.

“I mean unless you want me to call you ‘ _that bloke_ ’ in my head every time I’m here...”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms like a berating mother, “How many times do you plan on coming?”

Harry shrugs, “Until I get bored I suppose.”

The boy’s frown deepens.

“If you keep frowning your face will get stuck like that y’know.”

Harry holds back a grin when the boy slaps a hand to his face in alarm. He picks up a random orange-bound book from the shelf and heads over to an empty table. Empty, of course, being used subjectively. It was filled to the point of overflowing with books.

“It’s Draco.”

Harry cranes his head back to face the boy.

“Huh?”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“My name, idiot. Don’t make me repeat it.”

He blinks.

Huh.

Harry didn’t expect him to actually give in. The boy –Draco— came off as rather mean and pretentious, so this was a surprise.

Harry smiles, “Can we be friends?”

Draco flushes, recoiling, “No way! You’re a muggle!”

He sighs and opens the book on a random page. It neither in English nor French. It was probably in Latin, however it had pictures, and that was enough for him.

“It would be nice if you told me what that was.”

“I... can’t. And you really shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not?” He asks, glaring at Draco to which he receives nothing but shifty eyes.

“Because it’s dangerous.”

Harry sputters, “Wha- what do you know? You’re a kid!”

Draco huffs, crossing his arms and turning his nose up, “I just do.”

“Well I’m not leaving.”

“You’re impossible!”

Harry snorts and proceeds to ignore Draco’s protests for the next few minutes till he blurts out:

“Okay, _fine_!”

Harry merely glances at him from the corner of his eye. Draco was shifting and fixing his robes as he scowls.

“Fine?”

“I’ll apologise. I’m sorry for yesterday. Now will you please stop ignoring me?”

Harry grins and turns in his seat.

“I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Draco seems taken aback.

“Really?”

Harry nods, “But only if I get to ask you some questions. I can even swear never to tell anyone if that’s what you want.”

His scowl deepens while Harry’s smile widens.

“You won’t come back?”

Harry thinks about it. The place was truly interesting but he also wanted to heed the boy’s warning. If it was true that the place was dangerous, then he wanted as far away from it as possible.

“I won't.”  
•••  
It started out that way.

Harry brought Draco to the park, making him shed his weird robes first so as to not garner any looks. It didn’t work seeing as what Draco had on underneath was a pair of formal slacks, a sleek, green button up, and excessively shiny dress shoes while next to him was Harry who wore oversized hand me downs from Dudley, looking like a street urchin.

Besides that, Draco seemed uncomfortable around a lot of people so the park was really the best choice.

It wasn’t easy trying to get anything out of Draco. More often than not, he would try to avoid answering a question or they were monosyllabic at best. A few days of Harry’s insistent badgering paid off, however, and they made slow progression towards becoming friends. In light of those proceedings, he was able to piece together what Draco calls The Wizarding World.

(He wasn’t given any further proof of it due to Draco saying something about a Statute of Secrecy and how it was risky to perform magic without responsible adults, but Harry could still vividly remember when he caught those books with magic so he had no problem believing him.)

They spent an entire summer that way, Draco recounting to him all he could about magic and Harry doing the same about muggles (to a reluctant Draco). They even discussed the possibility of him being a wizard too. Afterall, he was able to cross the barrier to Maretow without aid. Unfortunately they were proven wrong when Draco got his Hogwarts letter a few weeks later and Harry didn’t.

He didn’t mind so much that he wasn’t magic. Draco had started teaching him French and since then, he’d managed to make quite a few friends in school. No longer was he the weird, skinny, small kid with the funny little lightening bolt scar that was Dudley’s favourite victim. It was a clean slate.

Life wasn’t so lonely after that summer with Draco mailing him letters –or rather, owling him letters through his window in the dead of night so that the Dursleys wouldn’t notice.

Their correspondence continued all throughout the next three years, telling each other all about their classes and new friends, and somehow (who was he kidding, he knew exactly how) he began to develop feelings for his friend.

Still, no matter how many friends he had now, no matter how nice it was that the Dursleys pretended he didn’t exist now –a blessing, truly— he was sad. Sad that Draco was so far away. Sad that they only ever got to see each other during those few weeks of vacation. And sad that Draco was sending to him less and less the more time passed.

But it didn’t matter at all the moment summer drew closer. Melancholy was replaced by pure, unbridled excitement for when he would see him again.

So naturally, when the bell rang and Harry raced out to head to the park, on a bench they marked with their names, Draco was nowhere to be seen.  
•••  
“This house better still be standing when we come back!” Uncle Vernon bellows from the car, making a valiant effort of closing the door over their overloaded trunk.

“Don’t you touch my room,” Dudley, the great ugly pig says, shouldering past him at the doorway.

“Whatever,” he responds, rolling his eyes.

“Better hurry, Petunia, darling! Can’t miss our flight. Marge is picking us up.”

His Aunt comes scampering out with two more bags, looking ridiculous in her new “ _Parisian_ ” outfit that Harry thought made her look like a bright pink popsicle.

He watches as they pile up inside the car and drive away then makes a beeline straight for Dudley’s room to play with his new console.  
•••  
Harry registers a door downstairs banging open, jerking him awake.

He hastily rummages around his side table for his glasses and silently slides off his bed. His eyes adjust to the darkness as he reaches for the closest weapon. A lamp.

He hears footsteps thump up the stairs, louder and louder, along with dulled murmurs. He hears a few doors open and close, no doubt checking the rooms, and Harry braces himself to throw when from behind his door he hears someone call:

“Harry!”

“ _Draco_?”  
•••


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry rubs his temples. He was getting a migraine. Two of the three men roamed the kitchen in awe while Remus, the scarred man from earlier, politely sits in front of him nursing a cup of hot chocolate.
> 
> “This is a load of bullocks. If there was an all powerful dark lord hell bent on taking over Britain and quite possibly the world, I'm sure I would have heard of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea where I'm going with this but at least I have a chapter. I have no beta so if you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know or I dunno throw garbage at me.
> 
> Enjoy or something.

Harry drops the lamp and curses when it falls on his foot. Both were loud enough to alert the intruders of his whereabouts and his door flies open not a second sooner.

“Harry!”

“Draco? What the hell?”

Draco rushes over with a wide grin, and embraces him like usual; as if he hadn't just broken into his house at the crack of dawn. Then Harry cranes his neck to look over his shoulder during the hug, sees a giant black dog and promptly freaks out.

“You brought a dog? You can't bring dogs here, the Dursleys would have my arse!”

Draco stares at him for a moment then turns to the doorway.

“Huh?”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“The dog, Draco.”

“D- oh,” he stammers, “He's not... uh.”

Harry sighs and makes his way towards the door, mindful of the beast, “Care to explain what the hell this is? Maybe over some tea?”

“I would like some coffee if you have it. Been a long day.”

Harry stumbles backward and narrowly misses braining himself on the edge of his side table. Luckily, Draco grabs his arms to steady him. 

A tall man stood where the dog was, in skinny jeans and a leather jacket, with long, dark, curly hair. His face was chiseled and unblemished, but his lips were severely chapped and he had dark circles under his wide eyes. He would look positively mad if he didn't look bone tired. Nevertheless, he pulls off a charming smile.

“This is...” Harry trails off.

“Wonderful? Amazing? Fantastic?”

“ _Odd_ ,” Harry says, straightening himself and glaring at Draco, “Why do the oddest things happen when you're around?”

“Hey! Why are you mad at me for?” He gasps petulantly.

Harry rubs his eyes, “God I can't have this conversation yet. Would it have killed you to wait 'til after noon? I had the house to myself last night and I stayed up past four playing with Dudley's console.”

“I don't know what that is.”

“Nevermind. Let's go have some tea. Actually, you know what? Coffee would be splendid–”

“Sirius, Draco, did you find– oh.” another man walks into view, going still at the sight of Harry. This man was just as odd with an assortment of shabby-looking robes. He looked just as worn out as the other one, with messy brown hair and a pallid complexion.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Harry sighs, pushing past the two men with a sole focus of the kettle in mind.  
•••  
Harry rubs his temples. He was getting a migraine. Two of the three men roamed the kitchen in awe while Remus, the scarred man from earlier, politely sits in front of him nursing a cup of hot chocolate.

“This is a load of bullocks.”

“What? But it's true! You're Harry Potter!” Draco protests, whirling around with the toaster cradled to his chest.

“I bloody well know _that_!” He snaps, “I meant the other thing.”

“That's also true!”

“If there was an all powerful dark lord hell bent on taking over Britain and quite possibly the world, I'm sure I would have heard of it.”

“The Ministry was very careful about disguising the ordeal as the work of a serial killer,” Remus, says, “It would have caused mass panic, no doubt.”

Fair point.

“Okay, but what about the part where I killed him when I was a baby? That’s just unbelievable. And my aunt and uncle said my parents died in a car crash. Not because of some madman.”

Sirius gave an outraged “ _What_?” and slammed his hands down on the table in anger but Harry couldn't bring himself to be frightened because just a few minutes ago he witnessed the man stick his head into the freezer and exclaim: “ _Blimey_!”

“They said what?” He hisses.

“So... they were lying?” He asks.

“Yes!”

Harry thinks about it for a moment.

“Huh.”

“That's it?” Draco asks, placing the toaster down.

Harry shrugs and moves away from the topic altogether. It wasn't the worst thing they've ever done.  
  
“So to summarize,” Harry says, holding up his fingers to count it off, “I'm magic. A dark lord that wanted to off me when I was an infant –and died trying– is attempting a reappearance and... uh. What do you want me to do about that?”

Draco leans over the table and says easily: “Come to Hogwarts. Learn magic. With me.”

It was an overly dramatic way of saying it, in true Draco fashion. Utterly ridiculous, yet he still feels his face burn and goosebumps rise up on his skin despite everything.

“You should come live with Remus and I as well,” Sirius interjects, “In England.”

“What? Why?” Harry says too quickly, trying to ignore Draco's ridiculous face.

“Do you want to live with the Dursleys?” Sirius raises an eyebrow incredulously, “From what I remember during the wedding, Petunia was _quite a peach_ while her husband, Bernie or something, was even more so.”

Harry snorts loudly which accurately expresses his feelings on it, “You don't know the half of it. I'm wondering, though, why offer to take me in? I don't even know you.”

Sirius snaps his mouth shut and his eyes flit about so Remus picks up for him, “Because we were friends with your parents. And Sirius... is your godfather.”

“I...”

Sirius glances up, shifting uneasily, “You…?”

“I think I might need more coffee for this conversation,” he takes a giant, sobering gulp before standing to refill his mug, “Where were you all this time?”

“Azkaban,” Sirius murmurs.

“Arse– what?”

“Prison.”

Harry frowns.

“A long story,” Remus says, “For another time. As of now, we really can't be here.”

That sounds familiar, he bites back from saying. Instead he sets his mug down and replies: “Why not?”

Remus fidgets, “Because technically we illegally jumped here.”

“You mean...”

“I means that I can't cross boarders without a special permit and Sirius is still under investigation.”

“I'm sensing the urgency in the situation but I have a lot of questions about that sentence.”

“Which we'll answer at home,” Remus says firmly and rises from his seat, “Now we need to hurry and pack your belongings before the Ministry of Magic gets here.”

“The what?”  
•••  
“You got here on a motorcycle?” Harry scoffs.

Sirius pats the leather padding of his bike lovingly, “Isn't she a keeper?”

“She's gorgeous but... how'd she cross the ocean?”

“She flew, of course!” Sirius exclaims.

“This is sounding more and more like Mary Poppins.”

“You know about Poppins?” Sirius gasps, “Wasn't she that woman charged for doing magic in front of muggles?”

Remus pipes in, walking up to them with Harry's luggage floating beside him, “I believe she was pardoned on account of the children being second generation squibs.”

“Oh I know about that!” Draco sidles up next to Harry with his school backpack, playing with his click pen, “Father said she caused quite the scandal among the pureblood community.”

“Indeed,” Sirius nods solemnly.

“ _What_?” Harry just whispers, feeling his mental state teetering closer to the edge.  
•••  
“Sorry about the mess, boys. Haven't had time to fix the place up since we got it,” Remus says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Wharside –a name Remus had helpfully supplied on the ride over– stood next to a cliff facing the sea and was less of a cottage and more of a small mansion with the warm aesthetic of cottage; stone walls and a pointed roof. Although visibly dilapidated with wild vines crawling up the walls and tall grass reaching his knees, it was much fancier than anywhere Harry's ever been in.

Wordlessly, Sirius sprints ahead and draws a wand. With a flick of his wrists, the doors open and he bounds through them and disappears.

Remus sighs, “He gets paranoid so he checks the wards frequently. I don't see the use. We're protected by the Fidelius charm.”

“What's that?” Harry whispers to Draco.

“A spell,” he says simply, purposefully, and irritatingly.

Harry rolls his eyes and stomps up to walk beside Remus. Draco has no trouble increasing his pace and follows after, casually explaining.

“The Fidelius Charm is meant to protect a secret. In this case, it protects Wharside from outsiders,” Draco supplies, “If Remus hadn't given you the address, what you would see here is nothing but an empty plot of land.”

Harry sniffs, ignoring him.

Remus chuckles, urging them ahead of him. He pushes the door open and lets them in without flourish. With a wave of his wand, Harry's trunk floated up a set of stairs all on its own.

Inside, the first room was large but cozy. The wallpaper was a deep red with golden swirling patterns, and the ceiling was high, wooden beams adding a charming feeling. Most of the light was natural, pouring in from the windows and the skylight in the middle of the sitting room. A large fireplace, which was already roaring with life, took up one wall while bookshelves took up the others. Yet, even with that much area dedicated to them, stacks of books were still crammed into corners. What little space was left was covered in ( _moving_!) photographs and little unidentifiable trinkets on shelves. A mismatch of pillows littered the tan carpet beneath them, along with sturdy-looking furniture. Harry thought it was well-lived in and fell in love immediately.

“I'll check on Sirius,” Remus says, walking toward a hallway to their right, “I'll be back in bit to show you around.”

After a while of poking around, Remus returned and trailing behind him was Sirius, his jacket gone and his hair held up in a bun with his wand. He's also slipped into a pair of fluffy red slippers and was cradling a giant book.

“Have any allergies, Harry? Or just anything you find disgusting?” He says without looking up.

“None.”

Sirius lifts his face, grins at him, and strides out of the room with a dramatic turn.

“Come now,” Remus says with a hand on his shoulder.

Beyond them was a door that led to a similar area, only smaller and with minimal clutter. Bookshelves still framed the room and instead of a skylight, there was a giant wall-to-ceiling window facing the water with a desk pushed up against it, while a wide loveseat and a couple of lounge chairs are strategically placed next to the books. This room is considerably neater and gave off a feeling of a home office. Professional, but comfortable.

“This is where Sirius and I work,” Remus says.

“Sirius works?”

Draco guffaws behind him.

“When he wants to,” Remus says, grinning, “You should ask him about it. He would love to tell you. Rather proud of it, I'd say.”

A second floor balcony overlooks the studio, a carpeted staircase curving up to it. Upon climbing, Harry sees a long corridor stretching out on either side of them, ending at a corner that turns to another hallway. Where it ends is unclear.

“The bedrooms are up here,” Remus says.

“How many are there?”

Remus shrugs, “Who knows. The house is rather indecisive about it.”

Harry squints at him, but Remus gave no indication that he was joking. Helplessly, he turns to Draco who snickers at him. Harry pinches his arm in retaliation.

“Here's your room. Ours is right down the hall on the left and Draco's is just the one to your right. If you need anything just knock.”

Harry nods, “Thank you. Really.”

Grinning, Remus replies, “It's our pleasure. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try and reel in Padfoot for a bit. He gets a tad bit too excited when he cooks for new people. We'll call when breakfast is ready.”

As he walks away, Draco leans in, “Let's get you settled.”

Harry shivers and busies himself with picking up his trunk, but he couldn't even have that one respite, because after a second of struggle, Draco whips out his wand and says: “ _wingardium leviosa_.” and the trunk floats out of his hands. He glares.

“After you,” Draco says smugly.

“Prick,” Harry retorts, opening the door and striding in with his head held high.

His new room was a nice green color but sporting the same swirling gold pattern as downstairs. A large bed with dark wood and pristine white sheets occupy the right side of the room while the left held two armchairs and a low table with double-doors leading out to a small terrace just past it.

Harry takes a few minutes to roam his new space, marveling at the spaciousness of it. The small room he used to share with Dudley's things couldn't compare. Sirius and Remus didn't decorate the room aside from the necessities, but the shelves were empty, and the walls, bare. It left him rather excited and giddily, he threw himself on the bed and stretched out, grinning when none of his limbs bump into walls or any solid object.

“This is fantastic,” he tells the ceiling.

Draco's face appears in his line of sight, “How childish.”

Harry sticks his tongue out, which, he can admit, actually is childish.

He turns over and curls into a pillow, a silent invitation for Draco. Feeling the dip of the bed next to him, he doesn't dare face him. It would be all too close. Because of that, he was able to spot a small picture frame on his nightstand that he didn't notice when he was exploring the room. Sitting up, he reaches for it.

It was a photo of a couple. A man with dark, wild hair and glasses perched on his nose with an arm around a beautiful redheaded woman. Both were waving at him and laughing and it takes him a second to realize that he was looking at his parents.

“Your mother is lovely,” Draco says, and Harry nearly jumps.

He meets Draco's eyes, and while Draco doesn't smile, his eyes were soft. Harry blinks and sets down the photograph, angling it so it was facing his bed.

Lying on his back with his hands on his stomach, he waits for Draco to join him. When he feels Draco fall beside him, he opens his mouth.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hm?” Draco replies.

“Did Remus just say he was sharing a room with Sirius?”  
•••

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
